


Stanxfemreader Thanksgiving Fic

by loopy_lupita23



Series: Stanxfemreader series [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/M, moving some fics from my tumblr to this site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 02:44:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4649223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loopy_lupita23/pseuds/loopy_lupita23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You find yourself unexpectedly employed at the Mystery Shack. At first working with crotchety old Mr. Mystery is about as fun as you'd expect but of the course of times, you notice there's more to him than you first thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stanxfemreader Thanksgiving Fic

**Author's Note:**

> The story is kind of an older one of mine, I posted it on my tumblr and it got really big praise there so when I found site and became a regular I figured 'why not' and am in the process of posting my various GFalls fics here. So I hope many people can enjoy them. :)

Stan-x-femreader

 

You got this job completely by chance, literally just yesterday thanks to the ‘man of mystery’.

The summer had just ended and you were showing your out-of-town relatives the local tourist trap known as the Mystery Shack before they went back home.

“It’s nice of you to show us around town sweetie, but why aren’t you going back to school this year?” your aunt had asked in a somewhat disappointed tone as you were messing with the two hundred dollar snow-globes in the gift shop, what were they made of, gold?

You had avoided looking at her at the time; honestly, you drop out of college, come back home and suddenly everyone cares about what you’re doing with your life.

“Oh well, I just feel like I need more time, gather my bearings you know.” You had mumbled.

But she was persistent, following you around the shop with follow up questions. ‘Well how much time do you need?’ ‘You’re not getting any younger’, ‘How do you expect to go anywhere if you don’t apply yourself?’

The usual bull caring relatives spew in the name of “just trying to help”. After a lap around the store you had stopped at the register and turned to face her. “Look I just don’t feel like I can handle college and the full time job I’m working.” You had said heatedly, just wanting this conversation to be over already.

The statement certainly had its desired effect as she had stopped mid-rant with surprise. “Job? Your mother didn’t say you’d gotten a job. Where is it? What do you do?”

She had you there. For a brief second your mind had scrambled as you frantically tried to fabricate something she wouldn’t see right through. But then-

“Hey!” a gruff voice had suddenly exclaimed, cutting through the lie you were in the process of making.

Both you and your aunt had looked up when the man behind the counter spoke. You recognized him as the owner of the place, Something-Pines, if memory served. He had barely glanced up from the register but spoke in your direction. “I know you took the day off to show your family around but that doesn’t mean you have to block all my business.”

You had looked back when he gestured to a small line that had formed behind you. Stunned, you blinked once before moving aside. “Er, yes sir…boss.” You had said, lamely.

A tiny smirk played at the ends of his lips as he moved on to the customers while you and your aunt had moved out of the way.

“Mm, well, this is a decent looking establishment, I just hope you don’t plan to stay here for the rest of your life.” Your aunt had hummed and left you alone to look at some t-shirts.

When the line at the register had gone down you went back to thank him for the bailout.

“Don’t mention it kid.” He had said, his voice just as gravelly as before. “You start tomorrow, eight A.M. There’s no real uniform to this joint but try not to dress too provocatively, I want the tourist checking out my merchandise, not you.”

You had taken a step back in surprise. “Wait, what?”

It was then that he looked up from his money, seeing you fully for the first time. That smirk from before morphed into an all-out grin. “What, you thought I was just throwing you a lifeline? All my summer employees are gone for school and seeing as you’re not joining them I need the help.”

“But- but-”

“Or, I can ‘fire’ you now and you can deal with your family getting on your back, your choice.” He had said confidently with an eyebrow raised as he closed the register with a snap.

Check-mate.

So now, here you stand, taking money from a bunch of saps while he runs another tour. It isn’t the worst job, but it certainly wasn’t your intent to get it to begin with.

“Hey dude, everything cool up here?” the maintenance man, Soos did he say it was, asks.

You wave from behind the counter. “S’ok I guess. You need help with anything?”

“Nah, gonna take my lunch break up front.” He says somewhat sadly, heading out the door.

You sigh as more people come up to the register. Yes sir, nothing like working retail to make you wonder what you’re doing with your life.

The side door leading from the shop to the attractions opens as Mr. Pines herds another group of suckers in. “-and that’s the end of our tour. So help yourself to the quality items of our gift shop. Remember, we put the ‘fun’ in ‘no refunds’!” he says with just a bit too much enthusiasm to be taken seriously.

You scoff softly as the crowd disperses.

“What’s a matter, scratch in your throat?” he mutters, leaning against the counter while switching the eye-patch he wore to the other side. He’s done that several times in the past four hours.

You shake your head. “No, I just don’t get them. How can they still want to throw money at you after you say things like that?”

Mr. Pines shrugs. “Beats me, but you don’t argue with a good thing, am I right?” he cackles a bit, you roll your eyes.

His laugh dies out when you fail to acknowledge it. “You seen Soos around?” he asks grumpily.

You nod in the direction of the door. “Yeah, he’s eating his lunch out front.”

He sighs at that, shoulder slumping. “He’s missing those kids more than I thought. Guess I can’t blame him, it has been too quiet since they left.”

“Your summer help?” You ask indifferently.

An odd expression pass Mr. Pines’ face, but you can’t really place what it meant as it’s gone as quickly as it came. “My grand-niece and nephew were visiting for the summer, working here with me.”

A teasing smile sneaks up to your face. “I didn’t know you had a family. People in town seem to think you just sprang out of the ground with the sole purpose of taking money.”

He growls softly and turns to go to the back room. “Ah shut yer yap and get back to work already.”

You chuckle lightly with a weak salute. “Yes sir.”

Hm, Mr. Pines with a soft side, maybe there was more ‘mystery’ to him than you thought.

-

It’s been a little over a week now and you’re starting to get into the routine of working at the Mystery Shack. You always show at 7:50, unlock the gift shop door, turn over the open sign, check the register, write the base amount of cash before business down, walk around the store, straighten anything that’s out of place, the usual retail routine.

Soos is almost always here before you and Mr. Pines lives here so you usually see them while you’re preparing the place for customers.

Not today though. It’s really quiet as you set up, the music in the store isn’t even playing. The clock on the wall shows its 8:15. Mr. Pines has usually come out to check the place himself by now, sometimes to give you a hard time.

You drum your fingers on the counter. _Hope he hasn’t had a heart-attack or something._ You think, mostly jokingly but almost immediately regret as the time passes.

_Oh hell._ You walk around the counter, praying your boss isn’t laying somewhere in the house needing medical attention, that snarky thought will haunt you forever if he is. You pause at the hallway that leads to his actual home.

You’d never actually been outside the attraction room or the gift shop, would this be a violation of some rule? He never said you _couldn’t_ go into his home but, it felt a little unnerving to enter someone’s house without asking.

You approach slowly and don’t round the corner. “Er, Mr. Pines?” you call.

No response.

_Oh shit, he could be dying in there._ The thought prompts you to enter, surely he wouldn’t be upset if you ended up saving his life by coming into his house uninvited.

It’s dark, but you can tell you’re in a living room and notice a light on in the other room across from the stairs. You ease around a card table by the entryway and walk across the room, passing a weird skull, a large fish tank, a yellow recliner and an ancient looking T.V.

_Interesting décor._

You stop and peek just around the corner of the lit room, it’s a kitchen. “Mr. Pines?” you say again, slowly coming around the corner.

To your great relief your boss is there, alive, standing at the counter in an undershirt and stripped boxers, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He jumps slightly at your voice and turns.

“Oh it’s you. Sorry, forgot to call. Shop’s closed today.” He grumbles, returning to his mug, apparently uncaring to how underdressed he is for company.

You try not to feel too embarrassed, after all it is the man’s own house, why should he have to dress up? “Oh. Uh, ok…” you say and turn to leave.

But you can’t bring yourself to go, closing the store doesn’t seem to be his style, it’s hard to get people’s money if your business is closed.

“Um, any particular reason why?” You ask uncertainly.

He shrugs, walking over to his small kitchen table. “I dunno, just not feelin’ it today. What do you care? Thought you’d be jumping for joy at a day off, seeing as I’m making you work weekends.”

You frown, you want to retort something equally as rude back but before you can really think of a good zinger you notice his posture seems…down. His remark didn’t hold its usual weight either, now that you think about it.

You hesitate, so he’s having a blue day, that’s not your problem. You have the day off now, you can call up some friends or hang out at the mall…he’s just a greedy old conman he’ll get over whatever it is. He’s tough and doesn’t care about anything, or at least that’s the impression he always gives.

He takes a drink from his mug and sets it down with a sigh, slumping over the table with all too clear unhappiness.

Inwardly you groan at yourself before walking around to sit in the chair opposite of him. “Why the long face?” you ask, hoping you don’t sound too forced.

He looks up at you, a little surprise evident in his eyes but quickly returns his gaze to his mug with another shrug. “I’m old, your face sags with age.” He mutters, the smallest of smiles on his lips as he takes another drink.

You chuckle a bit at his joke. It was a step in the right direction.

“You want a cup?” he asks, gesturing to the coffee pot.

You lean back in the chair smiling. “Sure and a croissant if you’ve got it.”

He gives the chair a nudge as he passed you. “Smart-aleck.”

You laugh as you stabilize the chair. “You started it.”

“Milk and sugar?” he asks, ignoring your retort as he pulled another mug from the cupboard.

“Nah, I take it black.” You say.

His back is to you but you can hear the smirk in his voice. “Is that right? Look kid, you don’t have to try to impress me, I’m not your parents. What do you take?”

You take the mug as he comes back to the table and take a long swig. Besides a little burn from how hot it is, you enjoy the bitter taste and relish the black-coffee smell then place the cup back on the table with a satisfied sigh and a challenging smile.

He laughs at that. “Oh ho! Alright then. You got spunk kid, I’ll give you that.”

You shrug. “Thanks.”

He takes another drink from his mug, spreading out the newspaper on the table. You watch his eyes scan the page for a moment, take a sip of your coffee before trying again.

“So what’s got you too bummed to open shop?” you ask, with a bit of forced indifference.

He glances up at you and for a moment you think he’s going to give you another weak answer. But then he looks back at the paper. “Missin’ those kids of mine I guess.” He murmurs.

You can hear the sincerity of his words, though he seems to be trying to play it off. “What were their names?” you ask softly.

He looks up, his expression mildly annoyed. “Dipper and Mable, are you sure you live here? They were wreaking havoc on the town all summer, we got in the newspaper twice!”

You ease up a bit, going back to indifference. You can’t try to hard or he starts putting the walls up. “I didn’t grow up here Mr. Pines, my parents moved out here after I finished high school in Eugene. I’ve only been in the town twice before now, I was in college in Portland for the past year.”

He hums, taking another drink from his mug. “And you dropped out? How come?”

You scoff, ticking the reasons off on your fingers. “Because the place is loaded with fresh out of high school punks who think this is just another high school to force their simple mentalities and idiotic social structure on, the teachers are biased and akin to said idiotic structure and halfway through every day I was always saying to myself ‘I’ve never been more miserable, what exactly am I doing here again and why am I draining money into this?’”

“Yeesh, sorry I asked.” He said, holding up his hands.

You take another drink from your mug as a brief pause passes between you.

“What were you studying?” he ventures.

You lean back in the chair, crossing your arms. “What does it matter? I’m not going back. I don’t want to babysit all those idiot teenagers and anyways, it’s all just part of the game we have to play. Go to college, fall in love, get married, work forever, raise a family, get old and die. Is there any point to any of all that stuff before the inevitability of the last step? The great circle of life, sure is downsized.”

Normally you get a scolding look from older people, your relatives anyways, when you make comments like that and at the very least a lecture.

You weren’t expecting a chuckle. You look up, surprised to see he looks, impressed? No, maybe…there’s definitely something in that smile. “Geez kid, just how old did you say you were again?”

“Twenty four. My friends like to joke I’ve got an old person’s soul in my body though.” You say, taking another drink from your mug.

“I could believe that.”

The both of you share a smile.

You grab your mug and swirl the coffee within it, looking decidedly uncaring as you speak. “So, I told you my story. Why not share a little about these crazy-named grandchildren of yours?”

He slowly folds up the paper. “Well when you put it like that, where do I start?”

-

Frost is starting to show up on windows in the morning as September begins to slip into October, you’ve been working at the shack for about a month now. Mornings with Stan have become an unspoken thing. You only just started calling him by his first name. While it did seem to surprise him the first time you did, he never asked you to stop.

Every morning you come into work about a half hour earlier than usual for coffee and casual conversation. Some days he even made breakfast. During that time you’d tell him about the train wreck that was passing as your life and he’d tell you about all the crazy adventures his grandkids had managed to stir up.

Then you’d go home and check with your parents to see if the things involving the whole town were true. You knew the locals weren’t the brightest, but who would’ve guessed they were so idiotic to have the wool pulled over their eyes by a snot-nosed punk like Gideon Gleeful.

And if you were really lucky he’d share a little about himself. Apparently he use to box, though you could’ve guess that. His arms were still relatively big, and even when he slumped he has broad shoulders and chest. You could imagine he must’ve looked pretty good back in the day with his square jaw and body frame.

It’s nice to have this sense of camaraderie again. A lot of your friends have gone back to school so it’s rare to see much of them and the calls seemed to be getting shorter and shorter when you do talk.

Your parents haven’t been on your back so much since you started working at least. The payment for rent is enough to keep them pacified.

Soos is able to relate as he lives with his grandmother. He’s pretty cool too, at first he didn’t think you’d be as fun a coworker as this Wendy was before you but you guys have a pretty good rapport going. In similar situations, though while he took it with stride and optimism you tended to be on the more pessimistic side of things.

Work is slowly becoming your favorite place to be with every passing week and that is only further emphasized as Halloween came nearer.

Stan is all about scaring the kids and even locals start to come with the spooky holiday around the corner. He bought fake blood by the barrel and made up some scarier attractions for the crowds, wanting to change the shack up for more of a haunted house feel.

You always enjoyed Halloween for the spooky factor so when he offered you the holiday off you refused.

“Are you kidding? With how all out you’re going you might traumatize some kids, I gotta get in on that.”

He had laughed when you said that and you had joined in. After all, what was the point of the holiday without a good scare?

Now that the day is finally here the shack is decked out in decoration. Fake cobwebs, tombstones in the front yard, ‘blood’ leading to the door, a few bones scattered about, and even some eerie music playing softly as you approach. It is perfect.

You enter into the gift shop section of the shack. “What up Soos?”

Soos is stringing little fake bats on the ceiling when you walk in. He glances back while on the ladder. “Whoa, nice costume, what is it?”

You’re dressed in a ragged black cloak with a matted wig of black hair, your face pale with make-up and lined to make your cheeks look sunken in.

Before you can answer Soos Stan comes in from the attractions. “Alright, the shop opens in a few minutes so- hey, what are you supposed to be?”

You sigh. “I’m a banshee.”

Stan does not look impressed while Soos seemed confused.

“I dunno dude, you think the kids will get that?” Soos asks as he gets down from the ladder.

You frown. “It doesn’t matter if they get it or not, it’s scary.”

Stan shrugs. “Eh, maybe in the dark.”

“Oh yeah, because everyone’s terrified of the Wolf-man and a skeleton.” You scoff, gesturing to the both of them in turn.

“Hey! Don’t knock the classics.” He snaps.

“Besides, I haven’t even put on the scariest part of my costume.” You say, pulling out a contact case from your jean pocket. Fall in Oregon, there’s no way you weren’t wearing real cloths under your costume.

It takes you a minute and a few swears to get them in, especially without a table or a mirror or anything. You don’t need contacts to see or anything so you’re not completely familiar with the task of putting them in. You’re grateful your coworkers wait patiently through your fumbling.

Once they were in you raise your head dramatically slow, relishing the unified gasp of surprise.

“What the-”

“Ah dude! Ghost-eye contacts?” Soos exclaims.

You grin. “Yep, cost me nearly a hundred bucks a few years ago. I wore them with a possessed girl costume I had for Halloween. Perfect touch right?”

Stan crosses his arms. “Well, they do make you look scarier, but I doubt it’ll get a really good scare from them.”

You frown. “Yeah? Well I’m double jointed so when people come in, I’m going to do this!” you reach in your back pocket and press the play button on the recorder you have. You open your mouth as an unearthly scream emits, twisting your arms and fingers out in what looks like unnatural ways.

Soos actually jumps back in alarm and Stan uncrosses his arms. When the recording stops Stan is smirking. “Now that’s more like it! Soos, you’re working the register tonight, you come with me.”

Taking you by the arm Stan leads you back into the attractions room. It’s completely dark, save for a few lights on the attractions. A steady stream of mist is along the floor. He really did go all out for this.

“Ok, you’ll be the best one yet.” Stan cackles, letting you go as you approach one of the lights “This is our last exhibit, you wait here in between the alien mummy and moose-bear. When we come around that corner, you come into the light and do that thing you did.”

He’s beside himself with enjoyment, slapping his knee as he laughs. “This will be hilarious! Oh, the kids will wet their pants! Ha, ha, ha!”

It’s a bit infectious when he laughs so manically, you chuckle a little bit too. He sighs, standing up straight. “By the way you’re cleaning up any wet pants messes you cause.”

You groan as he passes by you. Great, now you’re hoping you don’t scare them too much. As you wait for the tours to begin you smile a bit. Stan really is into the season, it’s nice to see him so enthused for a change.

After all the times you spent the mornings with him he only ever seemed partially glad. It must be lonely to live alone. Sure he’s still a cranky, money-grubbing old fleecer, but you can see that there’s more to him than all that. A real person, a good person mostly. And the fact that you are able to be a part of something that brought him this much joy…well, it makes you glad. Really glad.

“-And coming up, proof that we’re not alone in the universe.” Stan’s voice is getting closer. You sink into the darkness. Wait, was there any sort of cue you’re supposed to be waiting for? Oh he didn’t say…

“Long ago aliens came to our world…to mummify their dead!” he gestures to the exhibit and two kids gasp.

He laughs and steps aside. “And that’s the end of the tour, but as I said at the beginning, the spirits haunting this place could appear at any moment.”

The sinister edge to his voice is a little forced, that must be it. You jump into the light from the shadows, pressing the button on your recorder and opening you mouth and eyes as wide as you can, twisting your elbows out.

One of the kids you saw starts crying as the whole crowd jumps back with a few screams.

“Quick, run to the gift shop for safety!” Stan shouts, barely able to keep from laughing as he herds the group to the exit.

Once they leave you shut off the recorder, chuckling a little at your handy work. The wig and the cloak were all you bought for this year’s costume. Best fifteen bucks spent.

-

“Ha, ha! You were a hit!” Stan says at the end of the night as he going over the profit. You resist the urge to rub your eyes, damn contacts.

The first group must’ve had friends they told because you ended up doing to scaring bit an hour longer than scheduled.

“With money like this I might make you part of the attractions permanently!” he says with a wink, nudging you with his elbow.

You scoff, pushing his elbow away. “Yeah I’m gonna pass on that. These contacts are a major pain. And I don’t think I’ve ever sweated so much wearing a wig before.” You scratch your hairline a bit as you take off the wig.

“Is that a wig? I thought you just woke up and didn’t bother combing it.” Stan grins.

You laugh a little, giving him a light push. “Yeah and I thought you just grew extra hair for the occasion.”

“Hey Mr. Pines, I know the twins aren’t here anymore, but would it be ok if we stayed and watched a few of the late night movies before heading out?” Soos asks as he comes in from turning the machines off in the exhibit room.

Stan puts the money back in the register with a shrug. “No skin off my nose, if you really want to. But that means you’re gonna have to be here early tomorrow to take all this crap down.”

You smile, knowing the tactic of pretending not to care all too well. The three of you head into the living room together but Stan continues on to the stairs. “You kids find the station, I’m going to take this fur off.”

You throw the wig on the floor in front of the fish tank and sit on the skull as Soos grabs the remote and surfs through the stations at the table.

“This is was fun.” You sigh, leaning back against the wall.

“Oh yeah dude, Halloween at the shack never disappoints. What do you think, ‘The Planet People from Planet-Planet’ or ‘Gigantic-ish Spider’?”

You shrug. “They both sound pretty lame. Which do you think Stan would like?”

“Probably the planets. Or maybe there might be some old ‘Dusk Regions’ episodes on.” Soos continues flipping stations.

You get up. “Think he’ll mind if I make up some popcorn?”

Soos waves. “Nah, that’s what it’s there for.”

You go into the kitchen and throw a bag in the microwave before digging around for a big enough bowl as you wait for the corn to pop.

Popcorn in hand you head back into the living room and take your seat on the skull with the snack in your lap but you can’t really enjoy the food as your eyes are really starting to burn.

“Be right back, I need to take these contacts out.” You say, placing the popcorn on the ground before heading to the stairs. The shack isn’t all that big, but you’ve never used the bathroom here before.

Upstairs is small, a ladder leading to the infamous attic of Dipper and Mable and two doors, one of which was Stan’s room, the other the bathroom. The door on the right is open a crack and the left is closed. Which is which?

Nine times out of ten when people say where the bathroom is, it’s on the left. You take the chance, relieved when you are greeted by darkness and once you flip the switch, the sight of a sink, toilet and a shower/bath.

You enter, closing the door behind, frowning when it opens back up slightly. Stupid old house, half the doors you have to slam to close them fully. _Eh, it doesn’t matter_. You decide, turning on the sink to wash your hands before you take the torture devices out of your eyes.

With the contacts out and safely tucked away, you decide to wash up the make-up on your face.

You look in the mirror when you finish and smile at yourself. It’s certainly been a fun Halloween, one of the better ones you’ve had in a while. Scaring folks with friends and for pay, what more could you ask for? Then there was the little bonus of seeing Stan enjoying himself so much.

You’re really starting to like the old guy. He got it when you talked about the crappy things in life and he wasn’t patronizing either. A kindred spirit some might say.

You scoff at yourself as you pull the cloak off over your head. “Now I’m buying into the spooky factor of the place.” You mutter to yourself.

With the remainder of your costume folded under your arm you leave the bathroom. As you enter the hall however, a hoarse moan stops you dead in your tracks. You whip around, your eyes landing on the still partially opened door.

Stan’s room.

Was that a pained noise? Was he having some difficulty with the fur? Hesitantly you move closer to the door.

There seems to be a small desk light on in the room, you can’t see much but you can make out Stan sitting in his bed, his shoulders hunched as he appears to be looking at something.

His breathing is a harsh pant and it’s only when he lets out a low, reverberating groan that you notice the sheet on his lap moving vigorously.

Suddenly he throws his head back, his eyes scrunched up with pleasure as a sharp gasp emits from him. The sight and the sound send a surprising bolt of arousal straight through your spine. You step back and try not to run back downstairs.

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit._ You sit back on the skull quickly, trying not to seem too odd. Soos greets you casually and you attempt to return it but your tongue is being stupid.

Ok, so your boss is upstairs masturbating in the privacy of his room. No big deal, he’s a man, they do that.

A number of emotions are assaulting your mind. Embarrassment, shock…interest. Your stupid brain won’t stop replaying that groan in his gravelly voice. _That was really hot._ No! No it wasn’t, stop it, you’re not turned on by your boss.

Scolding yourself isn’t helping much. You try to eat some popcorn, balancing the bowl on your leg. Why is your mouth so dry? You look at the TV screen but the images aren’t sticking, you need to get your brain away from that crack in the door.

“You kids find anything good to watch?”

You tense involuntarily at the sound of Stan’s voice coming down the stairs. _Stop it_ , you tell yourself, trying to relax.

“It was tough, but we went with ‘Planet People’.” Soos answers.

He enters the room, wearing his usual undershirt and boxers. Why is that so bothersome to you now? He sits in the armchair next to you. That’s fine, there’s nothing wrong with that.

“Hey, you gonna share that popcorn?” he asks.

The rumble of his voice makes your blood race. _Stop it_ , you say again to yourself as you pass the bowl his way. His fingers lightly touch yours as you pass it.

You jump to your feet at the contact, yanking your hand away, nearly causing him to drop the bowl. “Well this was a good night. I should be heading home.” Your mouth spouts as you gather your wig and cloak in your arms.

Both Soos and Stan look confused, stop acting weird! “Alright, just remember to come in an hour early, you and Soos have to take the Halloween gear down.” Stan says as he reclines his chair.

You nod hurriedly and continue to the door as quickly as you casually could.

-

“You walked in on your boss jerking it? That’s hilarious!”

You scowl at the phone where your so called ‘best friend’s’ laughter is coming. Maybe calling her before work wasn’t the best idea, but it’s the only time she’s free before classes. You lean against the wall of your room. “I didn’t walk in! The door was partially open. I heard- I just peeked in for second.”

“So you were spying? That’s even better!” she laughs.

Heat rises to your face as you sputter out explanations, though you are almost sure your friend doesn’t hear you over her renewed laughter.

“You know, I called you because I thought you could help me get a grip on this.” You snap.

Her laughter begins to lessen to a chuckle. “Serves you right for think I could be mature about this.”

Despite yourself a small smile comes to your face at her response. Her honesty is part of what makes her your best friend.

“Ok, ok. Serious time. Yeah, that was crazy awkward. But it happened a week ago, he doesn’t even know it happened, so what’s the problem again?”

You sigh. “I dunno man. Everything. I still have coffee with him in the morning, we work together and the whole time I can’t stop thinking about it. Every time he gets near me I lose my cool.”

“Well it didn’t sound like you saw that much, you can’t be _that_ traumatized.”

“But that’s just it. I’m not, _traumatized_ , exactly.” You mumble.

A moment of silence passes between you two before your friend abruptly breaks in to a loud guffaw. “Oh my _God_! You’ve got the hots for the old man?!”

You shove your phone under your pillow and stack three books over it but still her laugh is clearly audible. Embarrassed, you cross your arms and wait for it to subside, glad she’s not here to see how red you’re positive your face is now.

Once it sounds like she’s got a grip on herself you retrieve the phone. “You are such an asshat.” You growl into the speaker.

She is still giggling. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just…oh come on! You gotta admit this is a little funny.”

You lay back in your bed. “It isn’t though. I told you how much I enjoyed hanging out with him, he’s actually pretty good company and now it’s ruined! I can’t even enjoy the mornings anymore because every time he talks I hear that groan and it completely undoes me!”

“You need to date more.” Your friend snickers.

You hum with a frown.

“Oh lighten up! Ok, so you’ve got a kink for old guys-”

“ _It’s not_ -!” You start to say.

She interrupts. “-but I’m sure if you just give it time it’ll pass. Maybe try wearing the novelty of it out with yourself instead of freaking out about it.”

You raise a brow at the phone. “What, indulge in it?”

“Sure. It’ll be worse if you keep trying to pretend it doesn’t exist. After a while I’m sure you’ll get bored with the fantasy and your brain ‘ll move on to something else.” She says casually.

You pause, giving her words real thought. “…And you actually think that’ll work?”

You can practically see her shrugging as she says. “Worth a shot right? Might relieve some of that sexual tension you’ve been feeling in any case. And hey, you’d be getting your rocks off to something you enjoy.”

“You speak so eloquently, how is it you failing you’re failing your communications class again?” You mutter.

“Ah bite me. Speaking of school, Thanksgiving break is coming up. They’re letting us out a week early for the holiday, maybe I’ll stop by G-falls on my way back home. Check out this hunky old man you’ve got your eye on.”

You shake your head. “Shut up man. I gotta finish getting ready for work, call ya tonight?”

She takes a sharp breath. “I have some serious essays to finish, might wanna wait and let me give you the call.”

You scoff. “Told you the ‘Evocative Show’ marathon was a bad idea.”

“I regret nothing!” she shouts playfully.

You chuckle. “Right, later man.” And hang up the phone after she says her goodbye. You sigh as you finish getting dressed. Too late to really try now, but maybe tonight you’ll take your friend’s advice. It’s better than freaking out with no direction.

-

Stan enters the gift shop with a group of tourist. You observe him closely as he ‘subtly’ introduces the idea of spending more money. He’s not in the best shape, but he’s certainly not in the worst shape either. His broad shoulders and moderately virile arms make up for the gut he sports.

Lightly you smack your head on the counter then look out the open window as the breeze picks up. This is one of those weird, but nice days where it’s definitely still winter time but for some reason the sun decided to come out and it’s not extremely cold. Perfect time to circulate some air in the stuffy place.

Halloween has long since passed, it’s actually closer to Thanksgiving now but that night still haunts you in a bittersweet way. Primarily bitter when you’re conscious but in your dreams it was another story. And your friend’s advice only seemed to add fuel to the flame.

Mornings with Stan are a lot more uncomfortable than they use to be as he is still completely content being in his underwear around you and with this new mind set where he is concerned it’s distracting.

At first he asked what had you so wound up (as you now tensed or jerked if he got too close) but after the first week of getting a shrug or you disregarding the question altogether he gave up.

Now he just rolls his eyes when it happens.

It wasn’t that you’ve stopped enjoying his company, you still do but now…now you sort of feel weird, enjoying his company a bit _too_ much.

His hands seemed to be on the bigger side, a part of you wondered if they were calloused…how they’d feel if they ever touched your skin.

Again you smack your head, a little harder this time.

“Keep that up and you’ll bash a hole into my counter.”

You tense up at the sound of his voice. He’s standing right in front of you. Embarrassed, you slowly right yourself, mumbling an apology.

He grunts dismissively as he comes behind the counter. “Keep an eye on the customers, I need to restock keychains.”

Avoiding eye-contact, you nod. He scoffs, shaking his head as he goes to the back room. You need to get a grip on yourself, your weirdness might start to get on his nerves too much and then where will you be? Jobless?

Sighing, you lean on the counter. Stupid brain, stupid awkward tendencies. Maybe your friend is right, maybe dating might get your mind back on track or at least distract you from whatever this weirdness was.

It’s not like you’ve never dated, you’ve even had a boyfriend or two. But the idea of dating now just wasn’t very interesting. Too much effort, not much of chance you’ll like anyone, something, it just wasn’t an appealing option.

Of course ridiculously pining after your boss wasn’t a great option either.

You groan, sprawling your upper body over the counter. _Why does everything have to suck all the time?_

“Uh oh, I recognize that groan. Quick, somebody call the buzzkill police.”

You straighten up at the sound of your best friend’s voice as she enters the shop. That old saying of ‘a real friend is someone you can talk to after being apart for a long time but it doesn’t feel awkward’ (or however the hell it goes), that would definitely apply to your best friend.

Despite your last real talk being a few weeks ago you grin and make your way around the counter to greet her with an embrace. “Hey! What are you doing here? I thought you said you weren’t heading home till tomorrow.”

“Yeah, that was before they started warning of that big storm coming through.” She says as she gives you a big hug.

You struggle to laugh as she squeezes the breath out of your lungs. “Ok, ok. Well I’m glad you beat the storm but I’m working, we can hang after I get off.”

She scoffs. “Duh, I knew you’d be working, it’s the middle of the day. I just came by to sneak a peek at your silverfox-”

“ _Shhhh!_ ” You hiss, pushing her away from the door to the back room. “He’s in the stock room, he might hear you.”

“Oh sorry, wouldn’t want him to hear me say a term he probably doesn’t even know.” She whispers back.

You scowl, nudging her a little roughly in the ribs. “Be nice.”

“Oww!” she whines, pouting. “You better watch it or I’m gonna sue.”

“ _Sue_?!”

Both you and your friend jump in alarm at Stan’s yell as he rushes around from the back with surprising speed.

The smile he’s forcing on his face looks painful. “Excuse me, _valued patron_ , I must inform you that the Mystery Shack is legally exempt from any and all trauma you migh sustain, clearly stated in several documents and advertisements-”

“Wait, wait Stan its ok. She’s a friend of mine and she was just joking.” You laugh.

He frowns and looks her over. Your friend grins and waves.

He doesn’t seem impressed. “Friend huh? Well, you better not try any funny stuff. This is work establishment not a mall.”

You nod, still chuckling slightly. “Don’t worry Stan, she’s just stopping through.”

He huffs, straightening the collar of his suit. “Alright then. Watch the shop, I thought I saw some shifty looking teenagers in the parking lot, I’m gonna set up the hose up just in case.” He says before heading to the door.

You wave him off with a smile. “You got it.”

“Nice to meet you, _Stan_!” Your friend says in an annoyingly cheerful voice. You roll your eyes and Stan grumbles something under his breath as he closes the door behind himself.

“Well he’s not the worst in the looks department. A little snazzy, though, that works for anyone wearing a suit. Am I right? I guess I can sort of see the appeal, maybe.” She says casually.

“Oh shut _up_.” You grunt, going back behind the counter as some customers start making their way to the register.

Never one to be detoured, she follows you behind the counter. “Well it’s nice to see you found someone who matches you on the grumpy scale at least.”

“What’s wrong with that? At least he gets it! Thanks for shopping.” You add to the last tourist as you take their cash.

You lean against the closed register and cross your arms. “It’s not like I’m depressed or suicidal, I just think everything in the world is terrible and the only person looking out of you is yourself! He _gets_ that! He’s a man who makes a less-than honest living without following some structure that other people made.”

Your friend laughs. “Yeah, because hating everything _but_ yourself is the so much better.”

Shaking your head you sigh. “You just don’t get it.”

“You’re right, glad I don’t or I’d be as crotchety as you are.” She says, grabbing a hat from the shelf and pulling it over your eyes.

Chuckling you take it off. “Easy on the merchandise there.”

She scoffs. “Wow, talking like him too. Maybe he _is_ your soulmate.”

You push her as heat rises to your face. “I didn’t say that!”

She returns the gesture. “No, but you don’t have to. Watch, tell me in your own words about him. Pretend you’ve never spoken to me and I just asked, ‘so, what’s your boss like’. Annnd, take us there!”

Rolling your eyes at her dramatics, you shrug. “Well, his name is Stan. He runs a tourist trap, emphasis on trap.”

You paused, looking back out the window. Maybe saying how you really feel could help, you close your eyes and let the words come to you.

“He’s a money-grubbering conman, suckering the fools who come in for all they’re worth. He doesn’t take crap from people, he gives it. And he’s sort of the ‘rough around the edge’ type but at least he enjoys what he does, which is more than most people can say, that’s really endearing.”

You feel the corners of your lips pull upward. “A lot about him is endearing, handsome even. There’s a lot more to him than people think. He’s a good person for the most part. He really loves his family and has a snappy sense of humor, interesting stories to tell. He’s good company and-”

“Ohhh, look at that smile!”

Your friend’s voice brings the world crashing back to you and as you open your eyes you wish you hadn’t.

Sometimes you really hate her face, especially when she’s grinning at you like that.

“Boy you really got it bad for him huh? More than a sex kink?”

You slap a hand over her mouth. “Will you stop saying stuff like that out loud?” you growl through clenched teeth.

She pries your hand away from her mouth. “What? The place is empty! And don’t change the subject, you said he’s handsome so there’s gotta be _some_ sex factor involved. You wanna jump his old bones don’t you?”

She swoons and starts to fake moan. “Oh, oh _Sta~n_ \- oof!”

You tackle her around the middle and pin her to the floor, brandishing your coat as a weapon and whapping her over the head with it.

“Shut up, shut up!” You chant, but stop short when she starts tickling you.

The scuffle goes on for a bit, you manage to stay on top until you hear a noise. You look up and at the door. Did it just open and shut? The small distraction is all your friend needs to get the upper hand and flip you onto your stomach.

“Ah! Ok, I give!” You exclaim as she pulls your arm behind your back.

She laughs, annoyingly smug as she helps you to your feet.

“Why am I friends with you again?” You mutter, dusting off your pant legs.

“Cuz I’m awesome.” She says with a grin. “Plus, we balance each other out. I help you loosen up and you help me take things seriously every now and again. It’s a symbiotic relationship.”

“Passed your biology exam did you?” You ask wryly.

“Nailed it!” She declares with a fist in the air.

“Glad you studied now huh? Well not that your embarrassing tactics weren’t well worth the effort but it looks like another group of suckers is coming through so you better get going.”

“Oh sure, just push me to the wayside. I can see when I’m not wanted.” She sniffles in an over-played fashion.

Snickering, you steer her to the door. “Oh get out.”

“No, no! Don’t try getting me to stay, your words have wounded me enough!” she simpers, holding on to the door frame as you attempt to push her out.

“Come on man, you’re gonna get me fired!”

She laughs, finally letting go and opening the door. “Well now, we wouldn’t want _that_! Oh don’t give me that look, I’m going, I’m going.”

You shake your head, despite the smile on your face as you wave goodbye. “See ya in a few.” You call, closing the door once she’s in her car.

As you make your way back to the counter, you realize you didn’t see Stan out in the parking lot when you were seeing your friend off.

_Where’d he go?_ You wonder.

-

Thanksgiving is in just a few days and the weather is really starting to get hairy. This morning you had to get up a half-hour early just to warm your car up and dig a little of the snow out from your tires.

You never understood why the media over-romanticizes snow. It’s terrible! Very rarely does it fall in a dainty, whimsical manner that people frolic in while in their pajamas and just because there’s no new snow doesn’t mean the old snow is no longer cold!

Just another crappy ordeal made light for people who don’t have a clue.

You arrive at the Shack a little later than usual, but still early enough that you can have at least one cup with Stan before people start to show. You walk in through the front door, into the house part of the Shack. You’ve come beyond the formality of needing to enter through the shop.

“Morning Stan.” You call as you enter the house.

When you get to the kitchen you see he’s at the table reading the paper with a mug already in hand. Upon seeing you in the entryway he smiles and makes to set the paper and the mug back on the table. “Hey-”

However, he misses the table end with the mug and the paper and both fall to the floor. He’s been kind of clumsy lately, it’s weird. Cursing under his breath he gets up from the table.

“I’ll get some paper towels.” You say, but he waves you off with one hand to stop you as he gathers the broken pieces of the mug in the other.

“Ah just use the newspaper to mop it up, nothing interesting in there anyways.” He says.

Once he leaves the floor with the shattered cup in hand you use the paper. “Getting kinda bad out there, I was lucky the main road was clear.” You say conversationally.

He sighs. “Yeah, I was thinking of closing the shop today. There haven’t been any tourists for the past few days. I’m losing more than gaining keeping it open.”

You ball up the soggy paper. “Understandable. So what does that mean for me?”

Stan is still searching around the cabinet for another mug when you get up to throw the paper away. _Told him he should do dishes more._

He shrugs. “I guess you can have the rest of the week off. Soos helps me with the snow and fixing the house up but with no tourists I’ve got nothin’ for you to do.”

His words send an odd sting of through your heart. “Oh. Ok.” You mumble, trying to shake yourself of the feeling. You throw the paper in the bin at Stan’s side.

“Thanks sugar- JAR!” he practically shouts the last word, causing you to jump. “Jar- I-I said…pass me the sugar jar will ya?”

You frown. “Don’t you take it black?”

He laughs, a little too loudly. “You know what, forget the coffee. How’s about you start your vacation early. I’m sure your wacky friend will enjoy getting to see you.”

“Oh, well, ok, I guess.” You say uncertainly as he steers you to the door.

“Enjoy yourself, see you in December!” he says with a hasty smile, closing the door behind you as soon as you are outside.

The hurt you felt from before seems to spread as you trek back to your car, leaving you feeling colder than the wind against your back.

-

“I thought you were getting ready up here.” Your mom scolds when she opens your bedroom door.

You are currently laying in your pajamas on your bed, half-heartedly playing games on your phone. “I am. You said they weren’t coming for another few hours.”

“That was an hour and a half ago. They could be here any time!” she exclaims.

You shrug as you exit the game. “Sorry.”

She sighs with exasperation. “Honestly. You got an extra few days off, why have you been so gloomy?”

You don’t respond as you drag your feet to your dresser to fish around for some dressy type cloths. _As soon as I save up enough money, never living here again._ You think.

“We might have to set up some space in the den for the family to sleep, the wind speed is going to get up to fifty miles they said. I don’t want anyone driving with the snow blowing everywhere.” Your mother is saying, probably more to herself than to you as she closes the door.

You take your time getting dressed, it’s hard to do anything really these days because Stan’s weird attitude towards you that day is still bumming you out. He never acted like that before, why did he want to get rid of you so obviously?

_It doesn’t matter. In fact, it’s stupid that it’s even hurting my feelings, I should get over it._

Your thought don’t help in the slightest. He stopped calling you ‘kid’ some time ago, you thought that meant something, like you were an equal to him now but after that day, clearly you were mistaken.

You sigh heavily, glancing up at yourself in the mirror on your door. A rufflie dark purple blouse with black trim and clingy black dress pants.

Eh, it was dressy enough. Nothing like being forced to play dress up for a bunch of relatives you don’t personally know. A small gathering with key family members would probably be more tolerable. Hell, it might even be fun.

Again your mind wanders to Stan as you go downstairs. He must be really lonesome right now. Thanksgiving Day, alone in the Shack. Just thinking of it makes you frown. _Poor Stan._

Your mom pushes a brush in your hands the second you enter the living room. “Brush your hair, I just got a call from your aunt. They’ll be right around the bend in a few, my uncle was able to hitch a ride up with her as well as his two sons. You remember them right?”

“No.” you mumble, walking over to the dining room table where your dad is cutting up the ham.

“Be more patient with your mom would ya? This day means a lot to her. It’s not often she can get so many of her family together.” He says without looking up at you.

You shrug. “I wouldn’t mind it so much if more of the ones we actually knew were coming.”

“You know these ones too. Or at least you did when you were three.”

And there in lay the problem. These people are virtually strangers who don’t know you any more than you know them and now that you’re an official college dropout you just know that’s all they’ll want to talk about. Hell, that’s all the family you actually _know_ wants to talk about these days.

You sigh, maybe a holiday in a dirty old shack all alone wasn’t so bad after all. You frown a little as a thought occurs.

_Wait. What if Stan was acting weird because he didn’t want my sympathy? What if he was just lonely and didn’t want to admit to it? Pushing me out may have been a defense. He could be really hurting now. No friend, no family, maybe even no Thanksgiving food coma._   This line of thought makes you feel guilty for wanting to be alone and even more sad for Stan.

_I wish there was something I could do for him._

That last meek thought is the worst of them all. You stand up from the table determinedly. What are you doing, just sitting here thinking about it? You’re an _adult_! You’ve got your own car, your own money, and this is _your_ life!

You didn’t want to be here anyways, why _not_ drop by the Shack? Surprise Stan with company and food?

You leave the brush on the table and march into the kitchen. Your mom will skin you alive if you try to take any of the Thanksgiving food, but that doesn’t mean you can’t take some of the food that’s always around. You rummage through the freezer for something passable.

Two steaks. You’ll have to buy some replacements for your dad later but good for a decent meal. You move on to the pantry. Instant mashed potatoes mix. Not as good as the one your mom made for tonight but not bad either and an instant box of brownies for dessert.

Overall, not a bad make-shift Thanksgiving meal. With the food in hand you go back through to the living room. Now comes the hard part, but you’re ready. Years of living with your mom, you know her weaknesses, you can definitely talk your way out of here…hopefully.

Your mom is currently straightening up the couch cushions with her back to you and the door.

Or maybe you might be able to just slip past her and tell her where you’ve gone after the fact. You tip toe past, holding the food tightly to your body despite the cold of the steaks in the hopes it won’t make a noise as you go.

You place everything on the counter and manage to get one snow boot on before you hear her.

“What are you doing?” she demands snappishly behind you.

You flinch at her voice then sigh, ok, here it goes.

“I, am going to spread the spirit of the season.” You say calmly.

The angry frown on your mother’s face melts to one of confusion. “Oh?”

You nod meekly. Screwing up your face to look as despondent as possible when you back at her. “Mom, my poor boss, he’s got no one. No friend, no family, he might not even have food for the occasion!”

Ok, stretching it a little bit.

She seems torn. “Oh. Well, that _is_ sad…but honey, the weather is supposed to get pretty bad at any time today, you could get stranded!”

You look down at your feet, time for the ultimate weapon.

“I know. I just…I feel so terrible for him. Alone like that, you always raised me to care about others…I guess I just care too much.” You pause, letting the subtle praise to her parenting really sink in, then sneak a glance up.

Oh yeah, you can tell by the look on her face, the way she’s clenching one fist, you’ve got her.

With an annoyed huff she hugs you. “Oh…be careful then. And if it looks too bad please stay there. The family will be here for a few days, we can all spend time together at some point I suppose.”

You return the hug with a smile. “Of course mom.”

Obstacle completed. Now you continue getting your winter gear on, then gather the food in your arms and open the door.

Another fun fact about living in the north, just because there’s no new snow fall doesn’t mean the snow is no longer an issue.

The wind right now is no joke, whipping you in the face the moment you’re outside. Huddling inward on yourself, clutching the food to your chest you scurry to your car. You get in quickly, opting to wait inside the car while it warms up rather than go back inside awkwardly.

Once it’s ready you pull out cautiously. It isn’t too bad at the moment, the wind does knock your little car around slightly but overall it’s a smooth ride, the visibility isn’t even too bad. Your biggest fear is getting out of town. The buildings are good at keeping you shielded from the bulk of the direct wind but once they’re gone there’s no telling how the ride will go.

-

Twice on your way here you thought you’d wipeout into a ditch, the wind deciding to pick up at random times, whiting out your windshield. But you’ve made it now!

You don’t bother with the parking lot lines, pulling up as close as you can to the shack. You gather all the food and take a moment to brace yourself before opening the car door. You fight against the wind to get the door open enough to get out and hustle to the porch.

You don’t even bother to knock, using your free hand to open the front door. Stan is where you expect, laying back in his recliner in his underclothes (no fez surprisingly) with a drink in hand though at you entrance he sits up, coughing on his drink.

“It’s ok, it’s me!” you say quickly while you wrestle the door to shut against the harsh wind.

Stan rushes over and helps you get it closed. “What’re you doing here?” he asks with confusion more than anger, pulling the winter cap off your head in order to see your eyes.

Though he can’t see it due to the scarf coiled around your neck and face, you grin and hold out the food to him. “Happy Thanksgiving!”

He looks from the food in your arms to your eyes twice, his expression stunned. Hesitantly he takes the food from you. “Really? Uh, thanks.” He mumbles, his voice a bit less gravelly than normal.

When he takes the food back to the kitchen you proceed to unravel from all the winter gear. The coat rack nearly tips over once you’ve finished, then you pull out your phone and send your mom a quick text that you’ve made it safe so she won’t flip.

You hope the ground won’t be too cold as you leave your snow boots at the door and head back to the kitchen. You’re surprised to find it’s not cold in the slightest. In fact, the whole room feels a lot warmer the further you get from the door. Almost too warm.

“Wow, Soos must’ve worked wonders on your furnace!” you call as you make your way to Stan.

“Uh yeah, he can be useful sometimes.” He says, turning around when you enter. He drops the mash potatoes box when he sees you. “Whoa, you got dolled up just to give me food?”

You look down at yourself, then laugh. “Oh, no this was for my family coming in. Technically, I was supposed to go back after giving you the food but,” You glance back to the living room window. Your car isn’t even visible anymore and the wind is howling outside. “I don’t think that’s happening.”

Stan doesn’t say anything, though he does look a little uneasy now.

That familiar hurt courses through your heart. “Unless you don’t want me to stay, I- I guess I can-”

“Are you nuts? I’m not sending you back out there with it looking like that!” he says quickly, grabbing the potatoes from the floor and returning to the task of food prep.

You hum in response, not really knowing what to say.

“Ya didn’t have to do all this.” He says offhandedly from the counter.

You shrug, trying to play off your stupid feelings. “Yeah well, our fridge was over-packed. Plus getting stuck with you beats being stuck with them.”

He laughs at that. “So that’s your agenda! If it means getting a good meal for free, I guess being a scapegoat can have its perks.”

You chuckle lightly. “You got me. Want help with the food?”

He glances over his shoulder at you. “You make up the spuds while I do the steaks?”

“Deal.” You agree with a smile.

The cooking goes quickly enough though neither of you says much during the process. You keep feeling like you want to say something, but the words elude you.

“So,” he says abruptly when the food is ready to serve.

You tense involuntarily at the break in the silence.

Stan clears his throat. “I know you’re all dressed up and traditionally this is the one day out of the year you’re obligated to eat at the table…mind if we skip it and eat in comfort?”

You pick up your plate and shake your head. “Lead the way.”

Plates in hand, the two of you walk back to the living room. Stan drops down in his recliner with a contented sigh and you sit on the skull besides him.

“We now return you to ‘The Duchess’ Esteem’.” The TV announces.

Panic crosses Stan’s face as he quickly searches for the remote while you snicker. “You watch ‘The Duchess’ movie series?”

His laugh sounds extremely forced when he finally digs up the remote and changes the channel. “Of course not! Musta sat on the remote and changed it there.”

You watch the football game he changed to for a few minutes, shocked to see Stan looks as bored with the game as you are.

“I use to watch that movie series with my aunt. I actually really enjoy it.” You say indifferently, taking a bite of your steak.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Stan straighten up a little. “Is that right?”

Avoiding his eye you nod. “Yeah. And they’re supposed to be marathoning it on the old movie channel, I wouldn’t mind watching it.”

He grunts half-heartedly, still seeming doubtful to you.

You clear your throat as you swallow your food. “It’s also polite to cater to your guest’s request.”

A smirk comes to the old fleecer’s face as he pulls out the remote again. “Well if you’re going to twist my arm over it.”

“He’s going fo-”

“-in regards to your marriage. What is marriage if not the shackles that enslave one person to another?” “I feel no enslavement for being betrothed to a man of honor!” “Surely you jest my Lady!”

You smile at the renewed interest Stan shows as he leans a little closer in his chair. In truth you’d never watched the series before, but who knows, maybe you’ll enjoy it. If Stan does it can’t be _that_ bad.

This food certainly isn’t. It’s not Thanksgiving turkey but it is good and as you really dig in it starts to be filling. You look up from your food at the sounds of a can being opened. Stan holds it out to you. “Want one? It’s pretty decent for beer, figured I’d treat myself with those kids gone.”

Uncertainly, you take the can. You’re not much of an alcohol drinker but…you take a sip. It has a bit of a bitter quality at first but that gives way to an almost apple-ish aftertaste. You smile in surprise at the taste.

“Wow.”

“Good right?” he says before getting a can for himself from the case beside his recliner. “I usually go for the heavier stuff, but this is ok.”

You nod, fiddling with the metal tag on the can. The weird feelings are sort of beginning to wane and this movie was kinda neat, plus good food, a surprisingly good drink maybe you’ve been overacting the past few days.

You sneak a side glance at Stan and smile into your drink.

-

“I’ll never be yours! Now that the truth has blinded the naivety from my eyes I see the snake you are!” “Duchess or no, I will make you mine!”

You watch the man and woman struggle on the screen intensely, occasionally taking a drink from your can. Stan is at the edge of his seat.

“Come on, come on! We know Sir. Edict is on his way, fight him Duchess!” he yells at the TV. Talking to the movie seems to be a habit of his.

“No, no!” “Stop fighting you damn woman! Ugh-” A gunshot sounds, both you and Stan move closer as the camera pans to the shadows on the old timey smoking gun.

“Elizabeth!?” you both gasp.

“M-mother? Oh mother!” “Forgive me daughter, I have done wrong by you. Seeing his fiendish ways, I now know how wrong. Your knight is on his way.” “But mother, what of you?” “I have murdered a man, surely I will be hanged, though I hope they will grant an old woman her last request. Seeing her daughter’s wedding to the man she loves.” “Oh mother!”

The movie pans out with the woman hugging her mother and the credits roll. You wipe the edges of your eyes. “Oh man, that really gets you.”

Stan mumbles something, his back facing you. You get the feeling he’s doing the same. With clear eyes you glance at the clock.

“Whoa, how’d it get to be midnight so soon?” you mutter aloud.

Stan looks up. “Huh? Oh, guess it is. Well, there’s one more movie but if you’re tired-”

You stifle a yawn. “No, I really wanna see the end.”

He chuckles and points in the direction of the stairwell. “I’ve got an inflatable airbed in closet next to the stairs, why don’t we set it up now before you fall asleep during the movie.”

You aim a kick for his leg. “Shut up.”

You stand to walk to the closet but your legs feel like jello. While your mind is still about you, there’s no doubt you’re a little tipsy as you make your way to it.

“Yeesh, I didn’t realize you were such a light-weight.” Stan comments when you pass him.

“I’m not drunk!” you snap, a statement unaided by the fact that you nearly trip on the small step in front of the stairs.

“Heh, sure you’re not.” He says mockingly.

“I can assure you I’m of sound mind and will recall the whole night.” You huff as you pull out the rolled up mattress.

You hear him stand and turn, he’s making his way to you, hopefully to help and stumbling a bit on that little step as he does.

“Looks like I’m not alone in the impaired movements department.” You laugh.

Stan rolls his eyes as he grabs at the side next to you. “Whatever. Would it kill ya to talk like a regular person?”

You don’t answer, too preoccupied heaving the blow-up mattress out. He gives it a sharp tug and it almost seems to jump out of the closet. _Show off_. You think.

He’s kind enough to help you pull it to the center of the living room and roll it out (by kicking the rolled in parts out) and plugs in the attachment that puts the air into the bed. Giving each other a thumbs up you return to your seats to finish the movie.

“Hand me another one?” You ask as Stan opens another can.

“I dunno, think you can handle it?” he sneers then laughs at the look you shoot him. “Ok, ok. But after this one I’m cutting you off.”

Shaking your head you thank him for the beer and take a long drink. The bitterness is almost nonexistent now.

“So, do you have a boyfriend or somethin’?”

The question comes out of nowhere, nearly making for a hilarious spit-take. You cough a little. “Not currently.” You mumble.

“Why not?” He asks while staring into the can of beer he is swirling around.

That uncomfortable coil is starting to form in your stomach as you answer. “I dunno, what’s with the third degree?”

He takes a long swig of his drink. “Just a question.” He grumbles.

You cast him a confused frown but now he’s ignoring you, turning slightly to keep you completely from his sight.

_What the hell?_ You wonder.

While the rest of the movie plays the casual feeling of the room has shifted back into that awkward territory it’s been in lately. You drink your beverage quickly, supposedly alcohol takes the edge out of things right?

Whether that’s true or not you can’t really say. It could be the drink or the fact that the final part of the movie series is so engaging you forget to feel awkward, even joining in when Stan starts yelling at the TV again.

“Duchess no! This isn’t what Elizabeth died for!”

“You’re better than this!” You shout before downing the rest of your drink.

The last of it leaves you feeling bubbly and warm. As you set the empty can on the ground you notice the bed is done airing up. With a grin you unplug the air compressor, close up the hole and sprawl out on the bed to watch TV in real comfort.

Ah yes, laying down feels awesome. When sitting on the giant skull you need to shift constantly so your butt doesn’t fall asleep and there is a supreme lack of back support.

Behind you Stan clears his throat. You crane your neck to look at him. _Why does he look so uncomfortable?_

“You uh, wantin’ to turn in?” he asks gruffly.

You scoff. “As if! I just want to lay down. This is a really good quality air mattress!”

He pushes himself off this recliner, staggering slightly as he goes back to the closet. “Well, just in case you conk out during the movie here’s a spare pillow and blanket.” He throws the bedding at you before sitting back in his recliner.

You frown a little as you unfold the blanket and bring the pillow to your head. _What’s with the attitude?_

You forget about it as the movie takes your attention again. The climax building to the life or death of the Duchess. Either due to the excitement of the final moments or the room just being well heated you’re feeling really hot.

You glance over at Stan who’s completely engrossed in the story. Well, you do have a blanket over you and he’s not paying attention. Discreetly, you kick off your dressy pants, sighing a little at the cool mattress.

“Darling please, if you expose the truth surely you will be killed!” “I have to Robert, my mother died doing what was right by me, therefore, if doing right by my people leads to my death, then it is a death I whole-heartedly embrace.” “Duchess, my love, please! We can marry and run away from here, start a new life away from all this, please-” “Goodbye Robert.”

You watch with teary eyes as she walks out of the room, out to the grand hall where most of the citizens were and tells them of secret trades the king has been doing which is the source of the kingdom’s steadily increasing poverty.

An outcry is had and talk of a revolt beings. And as Sir. Edict had said, by the end of the night she had been stabbed fatally, but not before making a difference with her life.

You wipe your eyes on the pillow as the credits roll. “Shoulda known it was gonna be a tear-jerker, ‘The Duchess’ Last Stand’.” You say.

Stan is blowing his nose. “Yeah. Good movie though.”

“Thanks for introducing me to it.” You say as you get comfortable for bed.

He frowns “Thought you said you watched it with your aunt.”

You grin, feeling bold. “Nah, I just said that so you wouldn’t have to bruise your ego admitting you like it.”

He gives the bed a kick as he gathers up the plates and empty cans. “Punk.” He mumbles while you laugh.

You almost offer to help but as you shift to get up you remember your pants and quickly lay back down. Not quite _that_ bold.

Stan comes back for a second pick up of the cans, his walking still a little unstable. You hadn’t been paying attention to how much either of you had been drinking. You roll onto your right side to face the TV where an info-mercial is playing.

You snicker. “Ever notice how stupid people are in info-mercials? It’s like, how do they function at all, much less without the merchandise they’re pushing? What world do they live in?”

“Ha! You kiddin’? I’d love to live in with saps like that, I’d be the richest man in the- whoa!”

You sit up and turn slightly when you feel the pressure of him falling face first onto the bed.

“Ah, stupid legs.” He groans, trying (and failing) to push himself up. His instability matched with the air bed’s inconsistency is not a good match.

“Oh well, looks like you’re trapped here with me forever.” You say jokingly, turning back on your right side to face the TV.

He doesn’t say anything to that. In fact, despite the light-hearted way you meant it, the statement seems to linger in an uncomfortable silence. You try tuning back into the info-mercial.

He coughs. “You know I…”

You tilt your head a little to look at him. He’s moved onto his back and his expression seems guarded. When he meets your eyes he shakes his head. “Never mind.” He mutters to the mattress.

You turn your attention back to the TV, snuggling up with the pillow. It’s oddly tense now, but what can you do about it?

“I heard what you and your friend were saying, that day she was here.” The words come out so fast you wonder if he actually meant to say them.

Nevertheless, it makes you tense up as any remaining feelings of sleepiness leave you. You don’t dare turn around but glance back as much as you can without doing so. “…Which part?” you practically whisper.

Stan doesn’t answer right away, however you feel the mattress dip and rise as he seems to be shifting.

“…Do you really think I’m handsome?” his voice sounds skeptical, almost mocking, though there is a small tremor to his tone.

You tighten your grip on the pillow beneath you. You can’t say what it is, maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s just being fed up with feeling so much anxiety over and around him, whatever the case, you decide to tell the truth.

You sit up and whip around to look at him, not caring to the shock on his face. “You know what Stan? Yeah, I do, ok? I _do_ think you’re kind of handsome and the reason I don’t have a boyfriend is because I’m not looking for one because…because I like you, a lot! Even though I know it’s stupid and weird and you probably don’t want anything to do with a kid like me and– well, that’s it, ok? Now go ahead and start making fun of me, maybe then I’ll finally get over it!” you snap, angrily turning your back on him once you’re done and laying down fully, pulling the blanket over our head.

Under the blanket you’re struggling to keep from crying, you feel so stupid and angry and hurt and-

The weight on your hip is unmistakably a hand. Your muscles tighten when he squeezes lightly. There’s another dip in the mattress as he moves closer.

You softly gasp when your back fully meets his chest.

“I, don’t think any of that,” his voice is softer now than you ever remember hearing it. The gravelly quality remains but there’s a gentle sincerity to it.

“I just wanted to know if any of it was true before I made a fool of myself. Or if you were just having a laugh at my expense.”

Hesitantly you lower the blanket to your ears. “You think I’d do something that mean?”

“Well you don’t seem to be the sort that would, but it’s far more likely that you would than actually be interested in an old man like me.” He grumbles.

You release your death hold on the blanket, allowing it to drop to your shoulders. “Well, you’re only as old as you act right? If the stories you told me about the summer are true, you know, fighting zombies bare-handed, punching dinosaurs in the face, you can’t be that old.”

“I think it’s ‘you’re as old as you feel’ and I didn’t tell you bout the muscle aches I had for weeks afterwards or the heart attack that dinosaur nearly gave me.” He says, his thumb running small circles on your inner hip.

You repress a shiver, scoffing in response to his words. “If feeling old is what makes you old I think I’ve been lying about my age for a few years.”

Both of you chuckle briefly at that, the atmosphere of the room lightening at the playfulness. For a moment you thought your little confession would ruin everything, that you’d never be able to talk to him comfortably again, but it hasn’t! You feel such a wave of relief at that, you sigh and lean your head back against chest.

You feel more than hear his breath hitch when you do so, his hand stilling its action on your covered hip.

_Is he, nervous? Why? Nothing is happening! …Right?_

The thought brings the situation into perspective that you were too emotionally wound up to take in before.

Currently, you are laying on an air-mattress in nothing but a shirt and underwear with your head resting on Stan’s chest, who is beside you with a hand on your hip, dressed down to his underclothes. The room suddenly feels a lot warmer.

_Well, this is happening…now what?_

You feel uncertain, not sure what you should do or if you should do anything at all. But you’re not feeling it nearly to the degree that Stan is, judging by how tense he is anyways.

Again, you might blame it on the alcohol or maybe just the thrill of being the one making him uneasy for once instead of the other way around. Whatever it may be you decide to make a move, pushing more fully against him and grinding your butt against his crotch.

Though there’s a blanket and a pair of boxers between your bodies you can definitely feel something firm against your back side. Despite your boldness he doesn’t move, his every muscle completely rigid, the hand on your hip is shaking slightly with the strain.

He’s actually starting to worry you a little bit with his breathing so quick and choppy, maybe you’ve taken this too far.

You stop your hip motion and begin to move away. You don’t get far however, before the hand on your hip abruptly tightens and pulls you back.

Stan thrusts up against you. “Sorry, it’s…been a while, since I’ve done anything like this, with another person.” The low rumble of his voice vibrates through your back, making your blood race.

“…me too.” You whisper.

Hesitantly, you free a hand from within the covers and place it over his. You chance a glance back and for the second time today he looks stunned, but when he meets your eyes his expression melts into a confident smirk as he snakes his other arm under your right side to pull you closer to him, his hand gripping your breast in the process.

The TV is dimly lighting the scene, whatever is on it you don’t hear over Stan’s huffed grunts while he dry humps you, the one hand remaining firmly on your hip, drawing your backside to him while the other alternates squeezes between both your boobs. You match his motions with your hips, hissing when he pinches your nipple through your cloths.

He moves back slightly and you feel a quick breeze as he slips under the blanket with you. When his hand returns to your hip he pauses.

“Pants off already?” his voice is strangely light when he murmurs the question.

You turn your head to look at him defiantly. “I got too hot.”

The grin he flashes causes your heart to ramp up. He yanks your body back to his, running his hand down your thigh firmly. “I’ll say.” He growls in your ear.

You want to laugh at the lame line but with his large hand moving up and down your thigh like that, the noise sounds more like a hiccough than a laugh. Never in any of your fantasies did you imagine Stan’s hands would feel so…amazing.

A little rough and dry but very warm and, strong. His grip isn’t bruising but there is an undeniable strength to it as it leaves goosebumps in its wake. You push back against him in earnest, getting lost in the touch of his hands alone.

When his hand moves to your inner thigh he presses a finger against your clothed vag. You’re a bit embarrassed at how wet you are, given how little has happened so far, but Stan doesn’t seem to care, humming in satisfaction as he continues to touch you, circling the area with his finger.

You bite your lip, breathing heavily through your nose. Regardless of how nervous he was at the start of this he’s definitely in control now. You’re coming undone with his every touch, letting out a soft cry when that mischievous finger slips past your underwear and inside of you.

He stills again, but before he can start to doubt himself you reach back with your left arm and hold him against you, gripping the elastic of his boxers. “Please don’t stop.” You pant breathlessly.

Something about that seems to light a fire in Stan as he penetrates you further with the digit while biting and kissing your neck, his other hand digging under your blouse and bra to grab your breasts more fully.

You close your eyes at the stimulation. His five o’clock shadow is scratchy but in a good way, his breath tickles the nape of your neck and his love-bites leave a pleasant sting and his hands, oh his hands. Pinching and rolling your nipples in between his fingers while also fingering you in a way that his palm is rubbed insistently against your clit, it’s almost a sensory overload.

You whisper his name weakly into the pillow, your left hand pushing his boxers down as much as you can from your angle. He withdraws his finger from within you to help get them low enough for him to kick off before returning to his prior actions.

Now you can feel all of him against you, his cock thrusting against the small of your back while he plays with you. Soft moans and harsh pants seem to drown out everything, including the howling of the wind outside. It’s so hot, everywhere is hot, even with the blanket falling more to the knee length due to all the frenzied motion. You run your hand over his thigh, dampened slightly with sweat.

You’re not sure how long this foreplay goes on but at some point he begins to slow and his lips move from your neck to your ear.

“Get on top of me?”

You shiver at the breeze of his breath in your ear. It’s definitely a question, not a demand and it’s certainly one he doesn’t need to ask twice.

You nod vigorously sitting up as he rolls onto his back. You jerk your panties off hurriedly and climb onto his lap, his cock pressing against the moist lips of your cooch. The light from the TV allows you to see Stan fully for the first time since things got going.

He seems a bit out of breath, his gray hair a little frazzled and some of that nervous tension has returned to his eyes as he takes all of you in, there’s an uncertainty to him as he slowly puts his hands on your waist.

It makes you smile, how can he be so anxious when he practically had your creaming just moments ago? You grab the ends of your shirt with crossed arms and pull it off over your head, flinging it to some part of the room before unhooking your bra and throwing it also.

You grind down against him slowly, all the while keeping that smile as you run your hands over his arms encouragingly. “It’s ok.” You breathe.

He relaxes considerably, his thumbs lightly tracing circles on your hips. With Stan calm you turn your attention to taking in his body. Under shirt or not, his chest is expansive, you move your hands down his biceps to his broad shoulders. The muscles aren’t ripply but they certainly hold a bit of definition. His stomach is pudgy, but it’s pretty easy to overlook with this cock pressed so close to your entrance. You pull back a little to get a better look at it.

Circumcised. That’s a bit of a surprise. It’s a pretty decent length but the thickness is what’s got you staring. It’s been a while since you’ve had sex and even if it hadn’t been, his is certainly larger around than anyone you’d been with before.

You take your time, lubing him up with your dripping vag before lifting up from him, positioning his cock to enter. But before you get that far it throbs in your hand. You pause, give it a small tug and he hums again. Smiling you do it again, working from the head of his dick to the base and back, rubbing the red head with your thumb.

Just like on Halloween he groans lowly, his fingers digging into your back as his grip tightens. You keep jerking him, sitting up a bit so the head just barely touches the lips of your vag. He grits his teeth, thrusting up into your hand with hoarse pants. Watching him come undone is almost better than the earlier foreplay.

“D-don’t tease.” Stan hisses with a particularly forceful thrust against you.

Grinning, you reposition yourself over him and grab his shoulders as you lower down, sinking him inside of you. You barely hear your own sharp gasp over the loudest moan he’s made all night. Even with the forethought his girth is too much to take in one go.

You raise off him a little bit and lower down to that same spot a few more times, the sting of the first entrance dulling with each time you do so. Beneath you Stan’s eyes are closed, his eyebrows scrunched tightly as you rock on his cock.

Once you’re able to take him all in you sit a moment, allowing your body a moment to adjust to his considerable size. His hands move up your torso then back to your hips.

“Go~d, so wet.” He mumbles huskily.

The tone of Stan’s voice is encouraging. You move your hips, not pulling fully off his cock before lowering back to the base. It’s a slow pace to start but you start to enjoy having him fill you so completely.

He rolls his hips up to meet you as you lower down on him. That’s when it really starts to take off, when he keeps one hand on your hip, pulling you down on him more forcefully while the other grabs your right breast, he seems to favor that one.

Your grip on his shoulders tighten, your nails digging into his skin with each thrust. The sound of your unabashed moans and his throaty groans mingle together as you ride him harder, causing his glasses to go askew on his face.

He’s so deep, with each roll of his hips his cock is hitting a spot inside of you that makes goosebumps rise up your arms, and your skin feels so much more sensitive to the sweat, the breeze of your motions. The feeling similar to reaching the decline of a rollercoaster starts in your groin.

His name tumbles off your lips as you move your hands to his chest for firmer support, slamming yourself down on him with as much momentum as you can.

“Ahh, s-slow down. I won’t last…” Stan struggles to say, but his voice shakes in every other syllable.

You can’t slow, not now, you’re so close. You try to tell him so but your voice is little more than a whine as you rut against him. He throws his head back with his eyes clamped shut, just like Halloween night. The sight is too much, the rising feeling that has been building up bursts, you close your eyes with a strangled gasp and white erupts behind your eyelids as an orgasm tears through your body. You tense entirely around him, barely registering both his hands grabbing your hips.

“Shit!” he grunts, yanking you off his cock completely. You feel boneless, uncaring to being pulled so his face is in your breasts or the shots of hot cum that hit your backside, even indifferent to the little bit that’s on the back of your neck. You lay on top of him, trying to catch your breath.

His grip on your hips is lax now as he lowers you down again. Still on top of him you rest your head on his damp, heaving chest. One of his hands comes up and rests on the small of your back.

For a moment neither of you does nor says anything. It’s almost as though someone has turned the sound back on to the rest of the world now that you’ve finished. The wind is actually shaking the window pane a little, the TV is advertising an unbreakable tether.

As you feel some of the bone return to your body you raise your head to look at Stan.

He’s staring up at the ceiling, his other hand behind his head. You don’t know what to make of his expression, the glasses partially covering it as they are tilted on his face. When he meets your gaze, you bite your lip, not sure what to say or what he’ll say or anything.

“…So…this really is a good quality air-bed. Didn’t lose air during any of it.” You say in a would-be casual voice. Mentally, you slap yourself.

Gruffly, he chuckles. “Got it pretty cheap actually.”

You sigh, putting your head back to his chest. “Course.”

Lightly, the hand on your back moves, rubbing up and down. You can feel his heart still hammering in his chest. A little of his chest hair pokes out of his undershirt, you curl your fingers in the damp mass.

“So what now?” his voice sounds so uncertain you look up at him again.

That is a very valid question and one you don’t know how to answer. It’s not like you can just get up and pretend this didn’t happen…well, you personally couldn’t, maybe he could. Is that what he wants?

You bite your lip, nervously twirling your finger in his hair and look more to the floor. “Er, I dunno…am I fired?”

He scoffs, pulling his hand from behind his head to take his glasses off fully. “Not unless you wanna be.”

You shrug. “No, I like this job.” A smile sneaks onto your face. “And I really have a thing for my boss.”

That gets another laugh from him and puts the confident smirk back on his face. “Is that right?” he says, the hand on your back giving you a little squeeze.

You look back at him with a grin. “Yep, especially now that I know you don’t need a blue pill to help you out.” You squeak more out of surprise than pain when he slaps your butt.

“Keep that up and I’ll kick you out.” Stan grumbles.

You slide off him to lay at his side with that grin still wide on your face when you kiss his cheek. “No you won’t.”

He tenses a little at the kiss but relaxes again almost immediately. He wraps an arm around you to hold you closer. “Called my bluff, not bad.”

You turn to your side and lay your head on his chest again. You don’t know what the future will hold, if this night will ruin everything or if it was just the beginning of many, all you really know is it sure felt good tonight and your eyes are heavy with sleepiness.

“Happy Thanksgiving Stan.” You mumble tiredly as you close your eyes.

You feel him shift a little and though you can’t see him, smile when you feel the scratch of his chin on your forehead as he gives you a small kiss.

The last thing you hear before you slip into sleep is Stan’s low gravelly voice as he says:

“Happy Thanksgiving.”

-End

A/N: Yeah that feels right. What do you think? I mean, it’s the first gravity falls fic I’ve ever done but I felt it was ok. Maybe a little long. Initially I didn’t expect it to go this long but damn it all, once I got going I just couldn’t stop.


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